This is my favourite time of year. I love the smell of late October, of leaves decaying and the promise, even though I am no longer a child, that soon my sweet tooth will be sated with an abundance of candy from friendly strangers. To me, Halloween is more than just a wanton display of slutdom in a Sexy (insert noun here) costume or the drunken and unapologetic pursuit of sexual gratification. It is my Christmas and I am not alone in feeling this way. But like the child who is surrounded by the carnage of unwrapped landfill on Christmas afternoon, I dread the monotony and malaise that accompanies the rest of winter.
As I watch nature blaze around me in a polychromatic blend of redorangeyellow, I can’t help but think of the entreaty of Mr. Dylan Thomas: Do not go gentle into that good night. As 2009 enters the mid-autumn of her existence, the time has come for her to burn and rave at close of day. In reverence of her, I intend to rock Halloween like a hurricane. Meanwhile, the impending winter nips at my heel like an untrained bourgeois house pet, taunting me about the fact that I don’t have anyone to hibernate with.
I appreciate that I am not the friendliest person. With limited cultivated interests and hobbies, it is difficult for me to meet people I have much in common with. I am severely lacking in cyberskill and the thought of online dating conjures images of lovelorn media geeks frittering their lives away on avatars, alternate universes and Trekathons. I should just get over myself. My friend Tracy assures me online dating is a numbers game. However, given her track record and the record of so many before her, a parade of unsuitable, unstable and emotionally irresponsible Messrs. Right Now sounds about as appealing as a bus tour through Western Canada with a cannibalistic seatmate.
I suppose that I have kept my wants and needs hidden from myself for a long time. What better place is there, I ask you, dear friends, but the public domain to expose a little bit of my soul? You can’t reap what you don’t sow, right Universe? So here it is, stripped bare, my shortlist. I am looking for someone who is active and does not tire easily. He must be possessed of a sharp wit, a refined sense of gallows humour and an appreciation for the macabre. He should be spicy and sweet (like me) and doting without being overbearing. Above all, he should be forthcoming and never keep me guessing about his motives or intentions. In return, he can expect loyalty, warmth, sparkling conversation and tons of affection. While I may be a battering ram of outspokenness to the thin-skinned, I am refreshingly candid to those who don’t care to have their words minced. And of course, I am frickin’ hi-LAR-ious.
So hopefully the Universe, a trickster of epic proportions who loves testing my reserve, will respond to this post by sending me a cosmic sign and soon. It gets dark outside too early these days and my hands are so cold. Have I mentioned that I make a mean fried chicken dinner?
